


A Helping Hand or Two

by Politzania



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, amputee!Bucky, meet cute, pizza delivery, semi-unlucky!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23890993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: After his accident, Bucky isn’t getting out much— but a hot pizza delivery guy gives him a reason to come out of his shell.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 22
Kudos: 152
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	A Helping Hand or Two

**Author's Note:**

> Title: A Helping Hand or Two  
> Rating: General  
> Square Filled: B3 - No Powers AU  
> Pairing: Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes  
> Warnings: self-image issues (Bucky)  
> Summary: After his accident, Bucky isn’t getting out much— but a hot pizza delivery guy gives him a reason to come out of his shell.

Since his windows were open to let in some fresh, spring time air, Bucky heard the delivery guy ( _or girl, don’t make assumptions_ , Bucky reminded himself) pull into the apartment complex parking lot. Then again, with the lousy exhaust system on whatever they were driving, so did everyone else.

It needed a tune-up too, as the engine coughed and sputtered before shutting down. Bucky had to see just what kind of beater they were driving, and took a quick peek out the window. It was a third-generation Camaro that had started out white, but now had patches of bondo all over and a purple front fender. As ugly as it looked, Bucky’s hands — well, hand — itched to get under the hood. 

The driver’s side door opened, giving Bucky not only a good view of the magnetic sign plastered on it: “ _Bullseye Pizza - Targeting Your Tastebuds since 2012_ ”, but of the driver himself. He was a good-looking guy, medium-tall with some serious biceps, and sported a purple and black sleeveless shirt and matching shades. When he bent over to get the pizza out, Bucky enjoyed the rear view just as much. 

But he’d spent too much time gawking. Even after three months, his balance was still for shit and he had to take his time going up and down the stairs. Sure enough, Bucky was still on the landing between the second and ground floor when the buzzer sounded. 

“Just a minute!” Bucky called out, cursing under his breath. The accident had taken so much from him, not just half his arm, but his self-esteem and confidence as well. It was easier to just hide out in his apartment, only leaving for therapy sessions — both physical and the other kind — and the occasional shopping trip, as most of the stuff he needed he could get delivered. 

The main door was hinged on the wrong side, but Bucky got it open and propped it with one foot. The delivery guy was even more attractive close up; even the Captain America bandaid across one cheek didn’t detract from his good looks. “I got an order for Barnes - medium meat lovers’ and a two liter of Mountain Dew?” 

“That’s me.” Bucky awkwardly fumbled the cash out of his wallet. “Here ya go.” 

“Thanks,” The delivery guy took the money, then gave Bucky a mildly concerned look. “So, do you need a ha— uh ... I mean ... can I help ya with that?” His cheeks flushed a dull red at his verbal faux pas, which Bucky found both unaccountably charming and mildly irritating. After all, he still had a little pride. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky responded tightly. He tucked the soda into the crook of his bad arm, and took the pizza in his good hand. “Thanks anyways.” 

“Sure.” To Bucky’s relief, the guy didn’t insist in being a Good Samaritan; something Bucky was sick and tired of. “Well, see ya.” He waved and returned to his car, which took a couple of tries before it finally fired up.

Bucky watched him pull out of the lot, then turned to go back to his apartment. His balance was even worse on the way back up; he ended up leaning heavily on the handrail as he climbed the last flight. Maybe he should have taken the guy up on his offer after all. 

As Bucky went to set the pizza box down so he could get his keys, the soda slipped out of his grasp. He held his breath as the bottle hit the floor and rolled back down the hall. He could just imagine it bouncing down the stairs, splitting open and making a sticky mess of everything. Thankfully it stopped just in time; maybe his luck was turning around a bit after all. 

Bucky had a good week. Steve’s battalion was back in range of the internet, so they Skyped a couple of times to get caught up on things. “I think this’ll be my last tour, Buck,” Steve confessed as they were wrapping up their call. “Time to start a new life with Peggy. She’s waited long enough.” 

“Just make sure to invite me to the wedding, okay?” 

“Invite? Hell, you’ll be my best man, you know that,” Steve chuckled. “Miss you, punk.”

“Miss you too, jerk.” 

Bucky also hit a major milestone in his physical therapy, and Sam took him out for a beer afterward. Just one, since the meds he was on didn’t play well with alcohol. And then Bucky had a productive session with his therapist, even telling her about his encounter with the hot pizza delivery guy. She nodded thoughtfully and then suggested he take the offer of help next time. “No man is an island, James. Keep that in mind.” 

Bucky placed his order on the Bullseye Pizza website: two large pies, a bunch of breadsticks and another two-liter of soda - clearly too much for him to carry back upstairs by himself. Hopefully the same guy would be working delivery tonight. Hopefully. While he waited, he straightened up his apartment, which it desperately needed. 

He opened the window again; it was another nice evening, but even if it had been nasty out, Bucky still would have done it, he needed as much warning as he could get. He didn’t want to make anyone wait, much less the man who Bucky hadn’t been able to get out of his head.

Sure enough, just as his order was due for delivery, Bucky heard a familiar rumble of exhaust. Grinning, he took a quick peek in the mirror before heading downstairs, making it all the way down to the lobby before the doorbell rang.

“Hi again, ” the hot pizza delivery guy said with a smile. “Having a party?” 

“Nah. Just decided I needed more leftovers,” Bucky replied. It wasn’t a lie, but perhaps not all of the truth. 

“Cold pizza: the breakfast of champions, am I right?” The guy’s wide, bright grin as he held out his fist for a bump made Bucky’s heart skip a beat; he returned the bump gladly. 

Then, before he could second-guess himself, Bucky asked, “So, um, think you could give me a hand getting this all up to my place? I mean, if you’re not in a hurry.” 

“No problem. My next delivery is just down the block.” 

“Great, thanks. My name’s Bucky, by the way.” 

“Clint. Clint Barton.” Clint followed Bucky up the stairs —commenting that his place didn’t have an elevator either — and waited as he unlocked the door. 

“Down on the coffee table is fine,” Bucky said as he got the cash out of his wallet, making sure to include a generous tip. “Thanks again.” 

“Glad to help.” Clint took the money, tucked it in his pocket without giving it a glance, then gave that same little wave as he stepped out of the apartment. Bucky got a glass and some ice for the soda, and had just sat down when he heard Clint trying to start his car back up. 

‘Trying’ was the operative word, as it just wasn’t catching. After the third attempt, Bucky grabbed his car keys and headed back downstairs - maybe he could return the favor. Clint was gripping his steering wheel tightly and sweet-talking his car as Bucky approached. “C’mon Bessie. You can do it. I believe in you, baby.” 

Bucky tried not to feel jealous of Clint’s car as he commented, “Sounds like you’ve flooded the engine. Probably an issue with your spark plugs.” 

“Great,” Clint sighed. “So I’m screwed?” 

“It’s not that tough to fix, but it’s gonna take some time. So here.” Bucky held out his keys. 

“What?” The shocked expression on Clint’s face was almost laughable. “You’re gonna let a complete stranger borrow your car?” 

“Well, you’re not a complete stranger,” Bucky reasoned, “After all, I know your name and where you work. And besides, I’m coming along.” 

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” The look of hopeful disbelief on Clint’s face was just as charming as his blush had been the week before. 

“Yeah - I mean, it’s not like I’m doing a lot of driving at the moment, and my car shouldn’t just sit there. And neither should I, for that matter.” 

“Wow, man, I don’t even know what to say,” Clint got out of his car and immediately pulled Bucky into a huge hug before letting him go just as quickly. “Uh, sorry about that. Kate tells me I’m too damn handsy, but you are literally saving my job right now.”

“It’s okay.” It had been considerably more than okay, even if Bucky hadn’t even had a chance to hug him back. The guy was just as strong as he looked, and he smelled good too. “We better get going. Don’t forget the pizza.” 

They spent the better part of the three hours running deliveries out around town, discovering they mostly had the same taste in music and shared a love of B-movies, the cheesier, the better. Bucky learned that Clint was originally from Iowa, and shared a little bit of his own story as well. He was having a great time and didn’t want the night to end. 

“That was the last one,” Clint said, sliding back behind the steering wheel. He then smacked his forehead and exclaimed, “Oh man - you never got to eat yours!” 

“It’ll heat up in the microwave just fine,” Bucky reassured him, then asked, “Why don’t you come back and join me? Unless you’re sick of pizza.” 

“ ‘Clint Barton’ and ‘sick of pizza’ are two phrases you will never hear together, Buckeroo. And yeah, I’d like that.” And there was that grin again, the one that lit up his warm hazel eyes. “I can call my friend Kate to come pick me up afterwards.” 

“Or you can crash on my couch and I can give Bessie a once-over in the morning.” Bucky offered, hoping that he hadn’t misunderstood what he’d felt building between them. 

Clint gave him a sidelong look, and with a grin said, “Wait, are you asking me back to your place, like, as a date?” 

“Kinda feels like we’ve been on one, to me.”

“Well, then, that makes this a hell of a lot easier.” Clint leaned over and kissed Bucky quite thoroughly. “Been wanting to do that all night.” 

Bucky’s heart soared as he replied, “That makes two of us.”


End file.
